Four Funerals and a Wedding
by stellapurple219
Summary: It's 2015, and it's Phillip Lester's funeral. Dan gives a heartfelt eulogy. Phan angst.


**Word Count: **1.7k**  
Genre: **angst**  
a/n: **ahhh hello again sorry it's been ages... also apologies for like 500 words of worldbuilding just skim it idk there is good stuff promise. Also I tried really hard to make this canonical and I researched stuff for it. The names at the start are all names I took from the Telegraph's death notices so sorry if you knew those people! if you did message me and I'll change it for sure.

_3rd March 2015_

_Sheila Campbell_

_4th March 2015_

_Nancy Sansom_

_6th March 2015_

_Michael Benzecry_

_7th March 2015_

_Phillip Lester_

I like deaths. No, that's the wrong way of saying it. Deaths, they fascinate me. I don't care much for wars or large statistics or countries with corrupt governments in which thousands die every day. I care about the stories. And so, every day, I buy a copy of the Telegraph. Not to read the front page articles about the recent war in Guinea and how many British soldiers died today, of course. Because they never tell you the stories of the people, their families, their lives, why the joined the army, who is there to miss them. They simply aim to shock you with large numbers, or evoke sympathy by telling you that four hundred soldiers from _your country_ were killed, with little regard for the ten times as many that come from elsewhere. No, I buy the paper for the death notices. I find them much more personal, and interesting, and this way I can gain an approximation of who the person really was, maybe even a little. Sometimes, the notice mentions a funeral. Sometimes, the funerals are open to the public. These ones, I do my best to attend.

My name is Joshua Harrows, and I am a 38-year-old retired architect currently residing in London. I quit my job in mid-2014 to attend funerals, which may seem unusual, but then I'm not the most usual of people. No-one really is, though, one of the many things I've found in my adventures. At funerals, there are three main types of people. Type As are the ones who attend out of sympathy, or a sense of duty. They aren't usually sad. Type Bs are the people who feel sad on the inside. It doesn't matter whether or not they have cried any physical tears, because you know for sure that their hearts are constantly crying. Often type Bs haven't fully come to terms with the death yet, or they are too afraid to let themselves, but it will eventually hit them. Sometimes right in the middle of the ceremony. I easily find these people the most interesting. Then there are the final type, the Cs. They don't hide their emotion, and these are always the most tear-streaked faces. Aside from the people, the eulogies are easily the most interesting part. You can tell a lot about a person from the eulogy they give.

I try to get out to a funeral most days, as I mentioned, but only the interesting ones. Funerals of people who have died from old age are often very similar, and there's less emotion involved because usually people saw the death coming. I also try to avoid the funerals of 18-year-old drunk drivers, which are mostly parents and friends and teachers explaining why they were truly a good person and only made one mistake.

As for money, I have plenty of it, and probably won't need to work again - something to do with my sister, and an inheritance… we won't get into the details. This isn't my sister's story, after all. Nor is it mine, for that matter. This is the story of the funeral I attended on the 7th of March, of Phillip Michael Lester.

His funeral was in Hyde Park. I didn't realise, of course, that the large space was chosen to accommodate what would have been hundred of teenage girls. There was a makeshift podium with a few rows of chairs in front of it, clearly marked "Those with personal relations **only**" and behind that a sign indicating to the area behind the seats marked "Public". There was also a large projector screen up the front playing a slideshow of pictures of a young looking man with black hair swept to the side in a fringe and striking blue eyes. Most of the pictures were taken on very good quality cameras and many appeared to be of him sitting down on a bed. The masses of girls were mostly dressed in either black or colourful tshirts depicting cartoons of lions or the man in the pictures with the word "AmazingPhil". I guess he was famous of some sort.

There was another young man now stood at the podium, he looked similar in age to Phillip and he had a similar haircut, but in brown. He looked nervous, somewhat scared yet as if he was trying to be brave. Perhaps for all of the girls gathered there. Definitely a type B.

"Hey everyone. Uh, I guess I should say _'hi guys'_." This received a considerable reaction from the audience, several girls already tearing up.

"I just want to say that it was a difficult decision to make this a public funeral, but in the end we wanted you all to hear it. To see it. To know it. Because if anyone deserves to be remembered it's Phil. So please- film this on your phones, cameras, whatever; go home and make gifs of it; share it around on tumblr. There is also a cameraman here who's filming this professionally, I plan on putting on YouTube. But I will ask that you keep the noise to a minimum and just, no unnecessary shouting or anything because there are so many of you here. I can also appreciate that many of you have a lot of things that you'd like to come up and say about Phil, but we're not going to do that today."

He appeared in control and brave, and at some points he even smiled at small jokes he made, but they never reached his eyes and you couldn't help but notice that he was overwhelmingly sad. He continued.

"I guess I'll start this off, then. Phil was an amazing person. He was the most kind, happy, selfless, uplifting, clear-headed person I have ever, and probably will ever meet. Phil, he somehow made everything easier, and better, and brighter. I feel like for all of my faults there was always Phil to balance it out. And whenever something was wrong or I made a mistake - I'm good at those - he was always there and suddenly… suddenly it wasn't so bad anymore."

At this point I saw the man's sadness start to break his shell of false confidence. The tears began to brim in his eyes and I knew he didn't have long before they would cascade down his cheeks.

"Phil was my rock. I needed him there, I need him there, he's- fuck. Sorry."

This was the point where he started really crying. This was it, this was the culmination of pent-up tears and emotions and apologies and pretending to yourself that you're okay that all gets let out in one moment.

"Two weeks ago, I tweeted this."

An image came up on the screen, a familiar picture from the website Twitter. It was a single tweet, from danisnotonfire. It read " AmazingPhil I love you".

"You guys exploded, like 'ahhhh phan' and whatever. You were surprised when Phil didn't react. This is because that was 5 hours after he, uh, you know. Whether it had physical intimacy along with it, it doesn't matter because I'm so fucking in love with him and it felt like we were soulmates or something but who even wants to believe in that shit anyway. I mean, we don't want to think about it because it's just really scary, right. Scary that one person could be your everything, your complete other half. And just when it doesn't feel scary anymore and you think you know where you're going for even just one moment in your entire life, this goes and happens. I mean, Phil, goes and… Now that this has happened I can't help but blame myself for everything I've ever done wrong. And I've made mistakes upon mistakes upon mistakes that I can't even allow myself to think about but my greatest mistake is taking things for granted, taking _Phil_ for granted, because I wish so much that I'd told him more often how much he meant to me. Because I can't do anything about it now, I can tweet and shout and make YouTube videos every day saying "I love you" but he won't hear it, will he?"

By now the so called "danisnotonfire" was speaking through a stream of tears.

"They found something in his pocket. It's right here, actually."

He held up his hand and I could just make out a band of silver around the ring finger.

"I don't know what Phil was going to do with this but, uh, inside it it's got 'Dan' engraved with the date October 19th 2009. I thought a lot about what to do with this. When I really think about it, I honestly doubt I'll find anyone else like him. And maybe what I need is not another Phil but someone completely different, but it's like everything I see currently is a version of Phil that's not as good. Like, this person's eyes are too green and this one's hair is too short and this one's not tall enough. And he can never be replaced, ever. Sometimes it's so much easier to pretend he's not gone at all. And so, I've promised myself that this time I won't be taken over, I won't lose. I won't let myself fall. I'm going to stay right here, I promise, and I'm going to spend the rest of my life loving him and avenging his - you know - if that's how long it takes."

"Phil is not gone. His personal existence may be, but the memory of him is not. His YouTube videos are not. And so we just… we have to hold on to him, alright? Phil is still my best friend."

I don't stay for the rest of the eulogies. It feels too much like I'm intruding in a special community of people. Anyway, I had to get home and dry my eyes. I don't usually cry.

_19th October 2015_

_Daniel Howell, Phillip Lester (deceased)._

I've started reading the wedding announcements. They're right next to the death notices. Much happier, I find.


End file.
